compassionate the other; there cannot be that delight or
satisfaction, which appears to be so considerable, without the
inconveniences, whatever they are, of compassion.

However, without considering this connection, there is no doubt but
that more good than evil, more delight than sorrow, arises from
compassion itself; there being so many things which balance the
sorrow of it. There is first the relief which the distressed feel
from this affection in others towards them. There is likewise the
additional misery which they would feel from the reflection that no
one commiserated their case. It is indeed true that any
disposition, prevailing beyond a certain degree, becomes somewhat
wrong; and we have ways of speaking, which, though they do not
directly express that excess, yet always lead our thoughts to it,
and give us the notion of it. Thus, when mention is made of delight
in being pitied, this always conveys to our mind the notion of
somewhat which is really a weakness. The manner of speaking, I say,
implies a certain weakness and feebleness of mind, which is and
ought to be disapproved. But men of the greatest fortitude would in
distress feel uneasiness from knowing that no person in the world
had any sort of compassion or real concern for them; and in some
cases, especially when the temper is enfeebled by sickness, or any
long and great distress, doubtless, would feel a kind of relief even
from the helpless goodwill and ineffectual assistances of those
about them. Over against the sorrow of compassion is likewise to be
set a peculiar calm kind of satisfaction, which accompanies it,
unless in cases where the distress of another is by some means so
brought home to ourselves as to become in a manner our own; or when
from weakness of mind the affection rises too high, which ought to
be corrected. This tranquillity, or calm satisfaction, proceeds